She had kept their plates warm near the dying fire, and she gave Tad one. The youngster stood up to eat while Emma brought Joe's plate. He looked down at it, potatoes, biscuits, butter, jerked beef that they had bought in Independence, and a cup of coffee. They were his usual full rations, and he said,
"Doggone, I just don't feel hungry. If you'll put this away, it'll be all the lunch I want tomorrow."
Tad said, "I ain't hungry neither, Mom."
"Now see here!" Emma's voice rose and there was a convulsive sob in it. "Barbara wasn't hungry, Tad isn't hungry, you aren't hungry—! What's the matter with all of you! You've got to eat—you've got to!"
Carefully, Joe put the plate and the cup of coffee on the ground. He caught her in his arms and held her very close to him, and she leaned against him, tense and trembling, without making a sound. His arms tightened about her, and he whispered so even Tad couldn't hear,
"My darling! Oh my darling!"
"I—I'm sorry, Joe."
"Emma," his voice was firm, "I know it's hard. But we'll get out, and I swear that to you by everything that's holy to me!"
Her eyes seemed like live coals as she looked at him.
Miserably Joe said, "Tad, you eat. If you're going to scout up more game you'll have to."